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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366436">Moving Forward</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronically_Writing/pseuds/Chronically_Writing'>Chronically_Writing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Injury Recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:42:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronically_Writing/pseuds/Chronically_Writing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl is struggling to adjust physically and emotionally to the loss of his eye.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Moving Forward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was slowly starting to filter through the tree-branches outside the kitchen window when Carl pulled out one of the pans lying in the kitchen draw. Judith cooed to herself as she toddled around the kitchen, chasing a large, blue ball brought back from a run earlier that month. </p>
<p>Carl gently touched an egg to the side of the pan several times, adjusting the angle slightly each time before bringing the egg down, hard, on the side and cracking the egg shell and emptying its contents into the pan. When he looked closely he noticed that only a small amount of the egg had landed outside of the pan and he filed that as a win for today considering the first time he tried to make an egg he had smashed it on the counter top, merely a centimetre away from the pan edge. </p>
<p>He moved the pan onto the heat of the stove and left it to start cooking slowly on its own. Judith left her ball and went over to Carl to grab onto his pant leg, enticed closer with the smell of breakfast wafting into the air. Carl smiled, reaching down to pick up his sister, resting his lips on the crown of her head and closing his remaining eye. Judith had started fussing far too early in the morning for Carl’s liking but at least it meant he had the house to himself for a while.</p>
<p>After putting Judith down again and cautiously slipping the egg onto the plastic plate, Carl heard light footsteps start to walk his way. He put the plate down on the coffee table in the lounge for Judith and prepared himself for the first adult human interaction for the day.</p>
<p>Carol entered the kitchen and gave Carl a small smile as a greeting. She moved around him with ease and began pulling three cups from the cupboards. Placing them on the counter and turning on her heel, she pulled out a small bottle of apple juice and poured varying amount into each glass for the three of them that were already awake.  </p>
<p>‘I could have done that,’ Carl said. He watched Carol with a slight frown.</p>
<p>Carol placed the juice back into the fridge and smiled at him again, ‘I know but I got to do it first.’</p>
<p>Carl tried to ignore the small swell of anger at the woman. He had not missed the fact that when she had spoken, she had pointedly ignored the placemat that was permanently stained after Carl spilt juice on it.  It seemed that now days his family could not trust him to fulfil his own basic takes. He would be finding a knife to cut up some fruit and then Rick would immediately breeze past him and begin the task saying it was no trouble or that he was about to do it anyway. Carl would walk down the road and stumble only to be grabbed by Tara who would look at him with a tight smile and utter out a lame joke of how he must be more careful. He hadn’t been such a burden on the group since the farm and it was beyond embarrassing. Walking and cutting fruit should not be tasks a teenager needs help with.</p>
<p>He fell back onto the couch to watch Judith tear up her egg and stuff the pieces into her mouth along with most of her fingers. He leant forward and wiped some of the drool off her chin before she could grab another bite of breakfast. Thuds from the floor above him signalled that the rest of his family was beginning to wake up which meant he needed to leave the house as soon as possible or else listen to another insufferable lecture on why he should start physical therapy. </p>
<p>Denise had told him how she read that physical therapy will help him adjust quicker, when he was getting ready to finally walk out the front door of the infirmary, still sick with pain and reeling with his new perception of the world. She was half way with her explanation when he had thanked her quietly but ultimately turned her down. Her look of uncertainty had made him sigh and quickly explained that he was fine and that throwing a tennis ball would not help him shoot a gun. It was easier and quicker for him to just get back into the full swing of things and learn through experience. They did not have the luxury to slowly get him used to the world again. Rick and Michonne had strongly disagreed with his views but Carl was stubborn if nothing else. </p>
<p>Now, three weeks later Carl regretted his decision. He had not gotten used to anything yet, not the headaches, the fluid draining from the poorly sewn socket and not the clumsiness. Still he refused to ask for help because it had been too long since help had first been offered and he would just look foolish. By the time Rick entered the lounge and held his daughter Carl was already halfway down the street and heading to the more isolated areas of the community.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carl sat in one of the fruit trees at the back of Alexandria watching the leaves tumble down heavily to the grass below. Carl had learnt that without depth perception, small moving objects often appeared heftier and more dangerous.</p>
<p>He leaned back against the smooth bark and watched the wilderness that was taking over the structures outside of the walls. The grass wilted in the steadily rising heat of the day and the crows circled slowly to the east. The teen closed his eye and tried to ignore the ache that was building behind the empty socket when he heard the distinct stumbling of a walker moving amongst the trees. </p>
<p>Carl lifted his head and looked for the potential threat. It was not hard to catch sight of the lumbering figure, with a stained camouflage jacket and torn calf. Carl was ready to dismiss it, it was heading away from the compound and Daryl was already back from checking the snares, so it posed no danger, when he caught sight of the gun holster strapped to its thigh. </p>
<p>Carl leaned forward and squinted, deciding if he should report it for the others to go and bring back the gun. Guns were worth a lot and it would be a shame to let a weapon just walk off like that. Tightening his jaw, he began to climb down the tree as gracefully as possible. When he hit the ground, he paused. There was nothing stopping him from going out and getting the gun himself.</p>
<p>His father had said he was not allowed to go out of the walls alone but that was just because Rick was over protective. His depth perception might be out, but Carl could still use a knife. To stab a walker in the temple he needed to get close to them so aiming was not that difficult when your target was that large. </p>
<p>He was tired of getting babied. He had become a liability and that was not something he could stand. His own mother said that he was going to beat this world. Then he had shot her. If his twelve-year-old self could do that then he could take down one walker. </p>
<p>With his mind made up he began to scale the wall, cursing to himself when his ankle got hooked on the top, but he made it over without incident and set off to follow the armed walker. He barely needed to walk for more than a few minutes before he saw it tripping over a root and swaying like a drunk.</p>
<p>The walker’s belly bulged with decay. Its eyes were blood-shot as it stumbled with vigour towards Carl when whistled for its attention. The teen walked backwards slowly, trying to lure the corpse into a more open area where Carl could manoeuvre without getting tangled in the underbrush. Like a loyal dog the walker followed until it was barely a stride-length away. Carl lifted his knife ready to strike at the walker’s head. He took one more step back then felt his foot hit nothing but empty space.</p>
<p>There was a moment where the world seemed to slow down, Carls stomach lurched, sending shocks up towards his temples. Not for the first time that day, Carl cursed every event that lead up to him losing his eye and his inability to just learn how to cope with it.</p>
<p>As quickly as the world slowed, it came crashing back. Carl tumbled down the steep side of the ditch, losing his knife when he put his hands out to break his fall. His back hit the ground and his breath was stolen from his lungs. He choked on panic as the walker fell onto him, snarling and excited. </p>
<p>Its putrid breath was the first gasp of air Carl could manage. He wrapped his hands around the damp, leathery skin of the walker’s neck to try and keep its teeth from snapping off his ear. He whimpered and grunted with the effort of keeping the dead under control. He looked to his left, desperate for a rock or branch to use as a weapon but the ground was nothing but a blanket of dry leaves.</p>
<p>His arms shook with the exertion of holding a walker and the hot feeling of adrenalin. He grasped blindly at the walker’s hip and thigh, searching for the sleek gun he had seen holstered there earlier. His hand wrapped around the gun and yanked it free.</p>
<p>The walker growled, trying to grab his head and pull it closer to its mouth. Carl pushed the back of his head against the ground to create as much distance as he could from the walker. He deftly flicked the gun’s safety off and pushed the barrel of the gun to the walker’s temple. He looked to the tangle of branches above him and pulled the trigger. A bullet flew through the walker’s skull, causing the softened bone to collapse inward. </p>
<p>He lay there, stunned and shaking. Slowly the ringing in his head gave way to the call of song birds. He shoved the body off him and sat up, trying desperately to get his breathing under control. He looked around for any other form of immediate danger, when he noticed the shine of a blade to his right, not even an arms-reach away from him. He stared at the knife unable to understand what he was looking at. His breath caught in his throat, his blood ran cold and he fumbled with the gun, dropping it twice before ejecting the magazine.</p>
<p>It was empty.</p>
<p>Carl began to hyperventilate as tears stung his eye. He nearly died. The gun could have been empty. It almost was empty. He used the last bullet. The only reason he was able to gasp for air was because the walker had a gun that happened to have a bullet left and no grime jamming the mechanism. If that gun had been empty, jammed, misaimed or non-existent he would have died with his hunting knife in perfect reach but lying in his blind spot.</p>
<p>Would his dad have found him before he turned and see that his own son had been too incompetent to use the knife that was right by his side. Breaking an egg on the counter was one thing but to be blind to a weapon during a fight to survive was a whole other issue. </p>
<p>Carl drew his legs up to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. He coughed out a sob and his jeans started to soak up tears. He became acutely aware of how dry his cheeks were under the mangled eye socket. He couldn’t even cry like a normal person anymore. He remained hunched over, his nose beginning to clog with snot and his shoulders jerking with each failed attempt to calm himself. He was glad that the only witness to his melt-down was a corpse with a caved-in skull.</p>
<p>A familiar numbness curled its way through Carl’s body when he came to a damning realisation. He could maybe adjust to his lack of depth perception. Maybe he could learn to play darts again or listen for footsteps better, but he could never restore his eye. Cold certainty overcame him.</p>
<p>He was going to die because of his lack of peripheral vision. </p>
<p>He almost did today. One day he would be too slow, or too focused on the wrong thing. He survived the shot itself, but its consequences would be the death of him anyway. </p>
<p>He wiped his nose, collected the gun and knife, and got to his feet. Knowing how he was likely going to die was a terrifying thought. He wondered if this is how old-world people with terminal illnesses felt when they got diagnosed. He was going to die and soon, probably. The least he could do was stave off the end as long as possible to try and keep his little sister safe. </p>
<p>When he had first woken up and worried about never being able to shoot again Daryl had told him how there had been an ‘ugly son of a bitch’ that lived in Daryl’s home area who was missing and eye but could still hunt with the best of them. That story had given hope to Carl that he could learn to shoot again. With that hope he had assumed if he just shot a gun enough times, he would have his aim back. He had tried to ignore the learning curve involved and that had done more damage than he expected. There wasn’t a point to learning how to shoot a gun if he walked into a wall in the middle of a fight. He needed to learn how to safely navigate his surroundings before he learnt how to shoot a gun. Physical therapy was going to be difficult, he knew that, but he had been shot twice and survived so he figured he would be able to push through a lot of frustration and discomfort.</p>
<p>Carl rolled his shoulder’s and walked to Alexandria’s gaits with a renewed purpose. He needed to put his faith in a process. He needed to do Denise’s physical therapy, learn how to catch a ball, walk around, and run upstairs injury free.  Once he had those skills, learning to shoot a gun would be simpler and he would be better equipped for a life of looking after his sister and being able to help his family. </p>
<p>Glenn opened the gait with a grunt of effort. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his shoulders were tense. ‘Where the hell were you?’ Glenn asked, ‘Rick is already planning a search party for you.’</p>
<p>Carl frowned, ‘I went for a walk.’</p>
<p>‘Without telling anyone. You could have been killed!’ Glenn stepped towards Carl and gestured to the world outside of the gait.</p>
<p>‘Yeah well I wasn’t.’ Cark said. The younger male reached behind his back and pulled out the empty gun from his belt. He handed Glenn the gun, ‘found this when I was outside. Its empty but it’s in good condition.’</p>
<p>Glenn to the gun and looked at the boy with poorly concealed confusion but he received no further explanation. Carl walked past him for a few steps then turned to face him one last time, ‘tell my dad to call off the search since I’m right here,’ he paused, ‘I’m going to Denise for a bit.’</p>
<p>‘You should go talk to your dad first.’ Glenn said.</p>
<p>Carl let out a sigh and said over his shoulder, ‘I’ll do it later but first I gotta talk to Denise. It’s important.’ The teenager headed down the road that lead to the infirmary without a single glance back.</p>
<p>Glenn squinted up at the other Alexandrian standing on the lookout platform as if to make sure he was the one in the right. The lookout shrugged, ‘teenagers, they never change even when the world has ended.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Glenn agreed under his breath. He looked at the gun in his hands again before setting off to find his panic-stricken leader and tell him that his son was alive and well. In fact, Glenn thought, he seemed to be less weighed down than he had been in the last few weeks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It has been so long since I wrote something other than factual assignments so I am very out of practice.<br/>Hopefully, this doesn't read too badly but practice makes perfect I guess.<br/>If you have any suggestions on how I can improve feel free to say so.<br/>Thank you!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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